The Study of Insecurities and SelfConsciousness
by SimplySalted
Summary: Nothing worth reading but something worth thinking about-  A analysis of the relationship between Matthew and Gilbert...and what might be below the Prussian's constant vibe of 'awesome-ness'. If you're looking for something funny or fluffy- this isn't it.


Nothing worth reading, but something worth posting to me…if that makes sense.

This is just my take of Gilbert, in Matthew's viewpoint…Matthew being a person I identify with a lot on a regular basis…

Yep…

And- lemme just say up front that there's really not any fluff here…I understand that a lot of people who do read any of this, won't want to continue reading it….because this is just a little mental wandering I'd made….trying to study the relationship between Mattie and Gilbo…

But it sounded really poetic when I'd read it again in my composition book- and somehow, it almost looks better in there…the paragraphs cramped and cozy...on here they're long and drawn out- not the way I'd hoped…

…meh, maybe I'm just fascinated with my handwriting- I'm so dumb, honestly…

* * *

><p><strong>The Study of Insecurities and Self-Consciousness.<strong>

It simply wasn't in him to be charismatic. And when having conversation, all attentions avoid him naturally.

Like the Canadian was just _made _this way.

Why was there this unexplainable, sinking feeling of disappointment? Was he upset that this was just the way things worked out? _Naturally? _We he uninteresting or did he just happen to be surrounded by people who were so self-absorbed they didn't care…?

There were interesting things he had to say, for example—Maple trees…they're captivating...right?

I mean… look at all of the varying shades of green they presented in the summertime, _all on one tree! _One single tree displays so many hues that, when counting, the blonde could _always _reach past 16…One splotch of leaves proved to be more yellow, while another nearby happened to be a deeper, emerald color…

And- at this point in the conversation, whomever Matthew happened to be talking to snorted obnoxiously at his own absurdity and retreated, ending the conversation just like that. That- or, he'd continue conversing with a now seemingly-comatose person…patronized with 'Oh?—Mhmm, yea…I know what you mean-'

_No you don't._

_You don't see what I see, and you don't care to find out either, do you? It's so much more than a tree, it's—Oh, forget it, you're already walking away. Look at you, caught in your lie… _

But one afternoon, whilst strolling down a boardwalk, admiring the sea and the sharp contrast of colors the sunset provided to it, a man approached him.

Looking directly into _his _eyes. Not through him or around him, _but directly_ _into him. _

And with that, he clipped the surface of Matthew's soul, leaving a gash that he'd promised to fix. Because, for the first time in a long time, someone knew exactly what he was thinking- and this wonderful presence had been smart enough…_kind _enough, to recognize him and say something.

'_Beautiful, isn't it?_'

But the man he'd seen on that wondrous evening wasn't the person he was seeing in front of him right now, and he _certainly _wasn't the one gloating about the numerous amounts of women he'd bedded.

_Oh, where had that warm presence gone?_

Granted, Matthew was ecstatic to run into that fascinating creature he'd seen at the beach again- but he never caught a glimpse of it after that.

A hollow shell stood in his place, the man's voice only _dipping _into the expressiveness he was capable of producing. His eyebrows contorted in hasty, messy movements while partaking in the seemingly idle, but definitely superficial, conversation before him. Not even close to the feelings he'd portrayed through his dialogue as the moon rose in the sky that one night.

_It wasn't fair._

It really wasn't fair to be brought out of a dark cave of insecurity, into the glorious sunshine, only to be burned; to think that someone _cared _about you, taking your hand and guiding you out of the sad, lonely darkness. Except after taking all that time to coax you into the sun, now bathing in warmth, they would turn back around to face you and say, '_Who are you?_'

_**God**__, he was so tired of that question._

But a part of Matthew also felt like it wasn't fair of him—to beg someone, pleading with them to sit down and _listen to him._

Sure, they would sit down, but process what the Canadian said? _Never. _

No matter their intentions, as good as they could be-and let's be honest…in the case of Alfred, he didn't hurt Mattie's feelings on purpose…They listened with their ears, not with their hearts or minds.

That was where they always went wrong…

With every person he'd ever met…their personalities being a lot of things- kind and thoughtful, rambunctious or brash…it didn't matter, because they just didn't understand.

Was it really their fault though? Could Matthew really hold it against them, when- in reality, he was only an insecure codependent being?

_That last sentence stayed forever trapped inside his thoughts. The idea of doubting his own feelings made him embarrassed, afraid, unsure of what people's intentions really were around him- constantly on watch and waiting for a fault._

But everyone he talked to didn't know the truth. That _**they **_were the key to him getting over himself, to being confident and guilt-free…_How could they not see something right in front of them? Something so important to the Canadian that he would __**give an arm**__ for them to see it!_

He just couldn't find someone who would reach into his sub-conscious self and console him. Someone who would look at him, _as a person_- _not a nation or a ghost_, and tell him that it was okay, and that they cared about him, that they enjoyed his presence…

Well, he **thought** he'd found someone like that, but said individual had chosen to make himself scarce- to run off and refuse any claims that he'd existed.

Was _that_ what this was about?

Was it just the lack of a loving relationship that made him feel this way?

It was more than frustrating to watch the Prussian strut around in his arrogance and make a fool of himself—actually, the people whom Gilbert was speaking to seemed to appreciate, even be amused, by his little parade.

The Canadian had never felt more infuriated than at this moment, watching the man's soul crumble behind the glittering red curtains of his ego that only he could see past.

He was better than this.

The blonde-haired man _knew_ so.

Or at least, he felt that it had to be so. Because he was sick of himself, grimacing every time he looked into the mirror, not wanting to think about why conversation didn't flow when he spoke to others. Why he couldn't look someone in the eye and say precisely what he felt and be understood.

Matthew was sick of hurting. Hurting for himself, hurting for other's lack of awareness, and most prominently, hurting for this man..

Because while quietly observing the Prussian from the corner, he'd realized one thing-

_The individual that he'd encountered that evening on the board was __**him**__. _Granted, it was an aspect of the man's personality, but Matthew identified with it so _clearly_-and it felt like he'd known the man for years because of it.

It became apparent that Mr. Beilschmidt must've been wounded- scalded by emotion at some point…and the person he'd seen at the boardwalk was now hidden somewhere deep inside himself, encased in a box of led- the voice's screams not being heard by others and at this point, Gilbert himself had even learned to ignore it.

It was the piece of Matthew in him—that he'd ignored subconsciously, he had no intentions of burying that quiet, thoughtful part of himself_, but he'd done it anyway, _on accident, even.._._

And that's where the Prussian was now, a remnant- a sad keepsake of the philosophical person he used to be.

So did Matthew miss his chance to save that part of Gilbert that he longed to draw out? The part of the man that _understood _Matthew? It was such a rare thing that he was _desperate _to experience…

The blonde-haired man frowned to himself, walking to the other side of the room to survey the faces of those whom Gilbert called _friends._

_Had he missed his only opportunity?_

* * *

><p>Deep relationship study or tacky soap-opera?<p>

You be the judge.

But I'll tell you this, anonymous person who was nice enough to read this...

Matthew in a way, is someone I'm using to voice that weaker part of myself- and to show that everyone has one...everyone has a little bit of Matthew Williams in them...the part that doubts themselves and becomes afraid, the voice that quietly tells you about fascinating things you see that you hadn't bothered to notice (Like all the different shades of green...) but they look at it and say, 'What's that-Who's talking? I don't see anything...it must be nothing.'

But it needs to stay _alive..._That 'Mattie' part of us, because of its constant doubt, isn't built for survival, it's something that requires constant tending and needs to be watered with more than a few tears...but in the end, it makes us stronger people...Because when the 'Matthew' in us prospers, the rest of us can too...

Yea- I feel like once I submit this, I'll be the absolute only person who understands what those paragraphs were all about...and, like said above, I feel like no one else understands...

But I do need to get over myself, and I don't know how to help myself, seeing that no one else is helping me...

So I'm trying this...

Should I continue with writing a PruCan whilst exploring my 'inner-Matthew' and Gilbert's 'inner-Matthew'? While teaching Mr. Williams himself how to prosper in confidence and bask in the feeling of happiness?

...and Zanteh...if you're reading this.. (I don't know- maybe you are...it's worth a shot to me..)

I just want you to know that I feel consoled- to think that you read this and possibly, after reading the fifth or sixth paragraph realized what I was doing- you're smart and insightful about other people, I know you understand...but I feel like understanding alone isn't enough for me to be happy...I want people to understand and then be able to make me better.

I understand it's impossible to ask- we're both strangers... what on earth am I talking about? I just- allow me to say that and you can continue on with your life and I'll feel a little bit lighter, a bit more brisk in my step.

So thanks...

AND if you're not Zanteh reading this- I'm sorry if I'd confused you...you can just go back to surfing FanFiction...go look for some delicious PruCan or whatever, be happy...

~Gill


End file.
